Tangled Forever
by PKlovesDW
Summary: He's the ground beneath my feet, the sun in the sky. A shoulder to lean on. Even if we never say such things out loud. First person. HG/DM. By DW.


**A/N: **Yes. Yes, I've written Dramione. The plotbunny just didn't want to let it go :(. Anyway, this is made for: The Shakespeare Competition/Challenge.

**Summary: **He's the ground beneath my feet, the sun in the sky. A shoulder to lean on. Even if we never say such things out loud. First person. HG/DM. By DW.

* * *

His touch was addicting. His breath like sunbeams on a Wintry day. His skin was like the first touch of snow on the ground, pure and untouched. Except for his chest and his left arm. And all that pale skin… all of it was for me. Even the flaws. They made him more beautiful. It pushed other people away, his scars, his flaws, which leaves me with more of him. More of him to touch, more of him to hold. Not that he would ever admit he needed human affection. I think it has something to do with him being the pure-blood aristocrat. But I'm glad I get to teach him how to care, how to love. Two persons who should never be together, but who are still horribly entwined. A pure-blood and a Mudblood. Isn't that swell?

Ron doesn't talk to me anymore. And I can't really blame him. I ran off with his mortal enemy. I was his love, and he was mine. But even that love withered away over the last few years, until we only clung to each other out of familiarity. And I decided to break it off. It was horrible, but it would be much worse if neither of us acknowledged it. We would've even drifted off further apart. It was better to go a different way. The both of us. But I'm actually really _happy_, something I would've never expected. Not with him anyway. And Harry? Well, at least he's talking to me. He actually sees that I'm happy, and even though he feels betrayed, in a sense, he's happy for me. It just shows friendship won't wither away like that. It's why I never had any friends. I can deal with books, but not with feelings. Or not nearly as well, I guess. But since I met the both of them, I realised it wasn't the end of the world, to let them know how I felt. Maybe that's the reason I was the first to express my feelings for him.

Automatically my gaze was drawn to him, as it always was on mornings like these. His bed was almost made for him, it seemed. Dark purple sheets were drawn around him, covering him for the most part, except for the top of his chest, where the Sectumsempra scars still lingered. The sun filtered in through the curtains, doing unspeakable things with his skin. It was breath-taking. The light actually reflected from his skin, filling several corners with light. Just like he did with me. Lighting the corners of my life. Like a _Lumos_ in a darkened room or a ray of light in the corners of the world, deprived from any light. He was amazing, but many would beg to differ. Once upon a time I would have, too. Now I couldn't imagine seriously insulting him. Even when we fought.

He could be quite vicious when he put his mind to it, knowing precisely where to strike and when to push. But even though our arguments were heated, we were never immoral about it. For him that meant not bringing up my blood status. For me that would mean not mentioning he was a Death Eater. At first it was really hard to not fall back in old habits, but gradually we've come to respect the fact that neither of us wanted to feel overly guilty afterwards. At least not unbearably so. Besides, it was necessary for our job. Working together in the same office could be quite stressful for the both of us. Stressful and filled with tension, especially since in that time Ron and I were in the heat of our break-up. It wasn't very pretty. And more often than not I was in a bad mood and ready to cry and fall apart. And finally, when all of that was behind me, a comment from him had me breaking down and sobbing against his chest, my hands buried in his shirt. It was soaked within minutes.

It must have befuddled him at the time, of course, that a full-grown woman could break down, just like that, with one offhand comment, one thoughtless reminder of what I lost. Even though it was the best for the both of us. I mean, Ron and I, we were together for five years. And friends long before that. Who wouldn't find it a blow to know that it won't work out? So yes, it hurt. It was only logical to seek support. I could've probably called on Harry, but I knew he'd be busy consoling Ron. And I didn't blame him for that. I couldn't. So I turned to him, how silly it might sound like. We've worked together for two years. And those years have changed me, if only a bit. He taught me more about his culture, as I told him about mine. And we've bonded over books and the passion of our jobs. It was lovely, especially after the first year of working together. I'm slightly ashamed it took me so long to overcome our differences. And to see the potential in him, what he could be like if he tried. And Merlin knew he tried. Even if it took me a year to see all that.

I looked beside me as I felt him stir. A yawn marred his face, before his grey eyes opened and looked into mine, blinking sleepily. "Morning," he whispered, voice soft and warm.

I smiled. Yes, it might've taken a year to see the potential. But I'm happier than ever, two years after.


End file.
